


A Quiet Chaos

by Siberian



Series: A Very Sterek Summer 2020 [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (not between main pairing), A Very Sterek Summer Fest 2020, Angst, Dark Thoughts, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation (Mentioned/Slight), M/M, Murder, Spoilers, Violence, When in Doubt-Contact Author for Full List of Warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27837889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siberian/pseuds/Siberian
Summary: There are a lot of things he regrets. What he regrets the most though is that he won't be able to make it right.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Very Sterek Summer 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2037619
Kudos: 20





	A Quiet Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> Written for “A Very Sterek Summer - Day 1: Beach” on Tumblr
> 
> This contains spoilers for the end of series. If you know Stiles' career track then you're good to go. Although a one-shot, this story is pretty dark. Heed the warnings, if you please. They are as follows, Murder, Violence, Implied Violence/Torture, Drug Abuse, Emotional Manipulation (Mentioned/Slight), Dark Thoughts.
> 
> Come join me on [Tumblr](https://siberianthewriter.tumblr.com)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The way in front of him was dark. Whether it was the lack of light from the crescent moon or his weary senses he couldn’t tell. To his right a line of scrub brush gave way to a wall of trees. They were tall telling him the forest was old. The trees were also close together, leaving little to be seen past their branches. The only thing he could see was a deepening darkness that felt ominous. To his far left was the ocean. It was crashing into the shore almost violently, casting water up into the air as well as pummeling the wet sand. The swells only seemed to grow larger, form quicker with every minute that passed. As his eyes took in the tumulus waves he slowly saw another day.  
  
It was a warm summer afternoon. The waves sparkled like blue glass under the sun and the burnished sand emitted tiny specks of light. Despite the cold water, he was calf deep in the ocean. A few feet in front of him was Stiles. They were both laughing as he chased the younger man. The water sprayed up to hit their bodies during the pursuit. Finally he got close enough to wrap his arms around a slim waist. Even as his tugged Stiles backward into his chest, he did a quick backward walk further into the ocean. The advance had Stiles releasing a squawk and a laughing complaint about how cold the water was. When they were both chest deep, he stopped moving to simply hold the other man close.  
  
At the pause, Stiles turned his head until their gazes connected. He was sent a soft smile before his lover leaned closer. As the space between them lessened, he moved closer as well until their lips met in a soft kiss. Out of nowhere, he stumbled over his own feet. It abruptly yanked him out of the memory. He looked down at his dirty bare feet. They moved through the sand with sluggish uncoordinated steps. For a minute he was fascinated by this, his inability to move gracefully. In a bump of humor, he wondered if this is what Stiles felt like all the time. Even if the other man did feel that way, it wasn’t true. A new memory slid into place at the thought.  
  
It was a cold fall day spent in his loft. The weather had been perfect for spending time at home, watching a good movie and ordering take-out from their local greasy spoon. After the movie they’d talked, some music softly playing in the background. The subject had eventually moved to dancing or more accurately how he didn’t dance. He should have known it wouldn’t be long before Stiles pulled him to his feet. They faced one another, dancing slowly to a song he didn’t know. The whole time he was given a wide smile, his boyfriend complimenting him on his technique. What had struck him more than anything though was how gracefully Stiles moved. It was a thing of beauty, how he seamlessly followed wherever he lead them across the floor.  
  
The rest of the evening was spent making love. He’d held him for hours after, watching him sleep until Stiles would have to go home. There was a look of adoration on his face. This was something he knew even without needing to see his reflection. It was a look that he didn’t feel comfortable enough for Stiles to see, not yet anyway. Trying to keep his thoughts positive, he’d leaned down to place a lingering kiss on the pale skin of a strong shoulder. The warm memory, complete with conflicting emotions, flew away when he stumbled again. A hard hand shoved him forward. He almost fell face first at the abrupt contact. “Keep moving and pay attention.” There was nothing in him that wanted to obey but he found himself focusing on walking regardless.  
  
When they reached an outcropping of rocks, he reached out his right hand to lean into the support. He walked for a few more minutes before coming to a stop. The weariness in his body had heightened. All he needed was a little break, a minute to catch his breath. He was so tired. “What are you doing? Keep walking.” When he spoke it was difficult. The breath didn’t want to stay in his lungs. It pushed past his lips in heaving exhales. “I need to stop for a minute.” That was as close as he could get to begging. “I don’t care what you need. Keep moving.” As much as he knew he had to comply, his body simply wouldn’t cooperate. When a hand slammed into his shoulders, this time he couldn’t keep his feet.  
  
He fell forward heavily into the sand. It was only an instinctive reaction that had him pulling his head back. The movement was enough that he didn’t currently have sand all over his face. “Get up!” When he didn’t stand fast enough, the hand returned to haul him to his feet. It released the back of his filthy shirt with a hard shove forward. “Move!” This time he managed it although he wasn’t sure how. The hand he had braced against the rocks shook badly. There was sand on his skin now, in his wrinkled already dirty clothes. It rubbed against his skin with an irritating unerring accuracy. The longer he walked, the further down the secluded sand of stretch he covered, he thought more of Stiles. When those memories started to turn dark he wasn’t surprised. Never let it be said that Derek Hale wasn’t consistent.  
  
He could remember it clear as day, the first time he’d ever really hurt Stiles. They’d been at the loft. It was late, so late the sun would be rising any minute. The quiet atmosphere had been broken by Stiles tentatively asking him if they could speak about something important. He’d nodded only to be presented with a gift. It was a tiny rectangular box, a deep red in color, topped off with a glittery gold bow. The first thing he’d done was raise a questioning eyebrow. Immediately the look had the other man blushing heavily. He’d asked hesitantly what the occasion was. At first he’d been worried he’d missed an anniversary. After being assured there was no occasion, he was told the gift would explain what his boyfriend wanted to discuss.  
  
With that he’d opened the box only to reveal a key. It was symbolic more than anything. At that time, Stiles was still living at home with the Sheriff. This was his way of asking him to move in with him, for the two of them to get their own place. He’d put the lid back on the box and had handed it back without speaking. The look on his lover’s face was something he’d never forget. It had made his heart ache to know that he was the cause. When he finally explained in a soft voice that he felt it was too soon Stiles had simply nodded. They fell into a silence which the younger man broke by trying to casually say he was going to head home. As soon as Stiles started to move away, he gently gripped his wrist and pulled him into his chest.  
  
The new closeness still didn’t have his lover meeting his gaze. He gave Stiles a soft kiss before emphasizing that he wanted what they had. This supposed rejection wasn’t that but simply a delay until the time was right. A tentative gaze was sent his way, scoping out the truth of his words, if he had to guess. Apparently finding what was needed, the other man leaned forward to bury his face in the crook of his neck. He’d held him for a long time, whispering sweet words into his upturned ear. They’d never moved in together and now they never would. The thought had his knees going weak. He slammed down into the sand without his permission. Suddenly the crashing of the waves was loud, too much among the chaos in his head.  
  
There was an annoyed sigh at his back. Instead of being pulled to his feet again though, a dark figure came around to stand directly in front of his kneeled form. “I guess here will work.” With a casualness that spoke of his character, the man who’d been his tormentor withdrew a gun. It was leveled at his head without a speck of hesitation. “You should have just told me what I wanted to know. I found out anyway, like I said I would. This could have all ended months ago.” As much as he didn’t want to believe that was true, he had a sinking feeling that it was. The torture wouldn’t have stopped otherwise. It had been four months since he’d been ambushed.  
  
He knew this because this monster liked to tell him how long he’d been missing. It was made a part of his suffering. At any time before, during or after being worked over he’d be reminded that his pack wasn’t coming. Eventually he’d been told they’d stopped looking. If his pack was so disloyal then why shouldn’t he give them information? The only thing he was grateful for is that the hunters didn’t seem to know about his relationship. Oftentimes it was the only thing that had kept him from breaking. He’d never betray his mate. This depth of commitment wasn’t even something that Stiles was aware of. If the hunters had known, he had no doubt they would have killed him immediately. They would have known then that all of their efforts would be in vain.  
  
The one thing a werewolf would never do, even under threat of death, is put their mate in jeopardy. It was almost unbearable sometimes to just witness Stiles peripherally helping the pack. There was so much death in Beacon Hills. He wondered sometimes how any of them had managed to survive. Although it had gotten better, he had often felt on edge. The career that Stiles had chosen only made it worse. When he was gone, conducting FBI business, he couldn’t even provide support. He knew he had to trust in Stiles’ abilities. In truth that did put him at ease. It’s just there was still so much uncertainty. The thought of Stiles dying made a part of him want to howl in phantom pain. He’d already lost so much. There was no strength left in him to lose more, especially not someone who was so important. It was his hesitation that had finally cost him everything.  
  
They’d been at the loft, sitting on the couch, watching whatever was on TV. There was a tension in Stiles that he pretended not to notice. When the time was right, he knew his boyfriend would share what was on his mind. In their time together, he’d come to know when it was better to ask and when it was better to wait on Stiles to collect his thoughts. Now was the time to wait. When the waiting period was over, he was almost disappointed at the subject matter. The topic of moving in together had come up again. Although things had still been good, since his supposed rejection there had been a difference in their relationship. It had lacked a carefree element that had been there in the beginning. The change had pained him but he knew they’d move past it eventually.  
  
This new discussion only served to uproot everything they’d already buried on the subject. It had started out well enough, the both of them calming explaining their feelings. At the same time, he was holding back. They weren’t moving forward because he knew Stiles was his mate. As sad as it was to say, he was afraid of what that meant for both of their futures. It wasn’t something he was ready to face. If he’d just said that then maybe things wouldn’t have gotten so out of hand. Despite his efforts to conceal this fear, apparently his boyfriend had known he’d been hiding something the whole time. When he refused to reveal what that was it had only resulted in a screaming match.  
  
Finally the noise died down, leaving both of them frustrated and angry at what could only be called a stalemate. It was with tears in his eyes that his lover finally broke the silence. He was told something then that was hard to hear. The crux of it was that Stiles couldn’t stay in a relationship when he didn’t know where he stood. If he was willing to talk, openly and honestly, then Stiles was willing to listen. Beyond that, there was nothing left to say. They were over. Or at least, they would be, if he left it at that. The ball had been placed firmly in his court. When a moment later Stiles left, he’d fairly collapsed into the couch. It had been hard to think, to breathe. This was absolutely the last thing he wanted. If he didn’t say as much or move past his fear enough to speak up, it’s exactly what he was going to get.  
  
He took a day to try to shore up his emotional reserves for the upcoming conversation. The whole day it felt as if a hole had been hollowed out in his chest. It didn’t take him long to realize that the separation was only making it harder to think, so he started to make plans to treat Stiles to a date to end all dates. The evening would start with them talking. He’d voice his fears but would also tell Stiles his depth of feeling. If it went well, the fact that Stiles was his mate would be revealed. That was up for debate simply because it equated to being married. He didn’t want to freak the other man out. From there they’d go to a fancy dinner, do a little dancing at an upscale club, maybe catch a movie and if all went well spend the rest of the night at the loft.  
  
All of his plans were derailed when the next night he’d been kidnapped. He’d never been able to follow through with even setting things in motion. There was nothing for Stiles to find, no evidence of his intent. What’s worse, he’d never gotten the chance to apologize. Now he never would. As much as he’d never betray the pack, any hope he had of rescue had dwindled with the passing days. At first his last memory of Stiles had given him strength, he’d made a mistake and he wanted to make it right. When no rescue came, the strength shifted to misery. There would be no chance to fix things. Instead the love of his life would be left with doubt. He would be left with something painful, when he should have been left with something beautiful, like memories of them playing in the sunlight.  
  
At the devastating thought, he nearly closed his eyes. It was only a stubborn willfulness to show strength, to not give this man the satisfaction of seeing him close his eyes that managed to keep them open against his pain. The gun was cocked. He wanted to move. There was a drive under his weariness. It told him to dart away, to lunge forward and rip the man’s throat out. As much as he wanted to move, his weak muscles wouldn’t obey his demanding instincts. There were simply no reserves left for him to pull from. The last few weeks had seen him beaten, starved, periodically poisoned with wolfsbane and drugged with something that made him weak as a kitten. It was the only reason he wasn’t restrained. There had been no chance that he would be able to fight back. The man in front of him was cruel but he’d proven early on not to be stupid.  
  
Instead of focusing on his loud breathing, he tried to focus on the sound of the waves. With the sound of them in his ears, the image of that sunny day at the beach was easier to pull up. He tried to focus on that. It was hard to do since he was determined to keep his eyes open. In the end though, he started to see that day bleed into his vision. As the sight of the gun faded, his lips moved in silent words. They weren’t meant for this man, so he was careful that they wouldn’t be heard. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I love you.” The gun rang out loudly on the silent beach. When a second shot rang out then a third, confusion set it. He blinked rapidly, only now registering the way the man’s body had jerked back and had eventually fallen to the ground.  
  
Even as he kneeled there staring, a much loved voice reached his ears. “Derek!” The voice tempted him to turn his head. Despite the desire, he couldn’t seem to move. His gaze was fixed on his tormentor, watching the sand under his body turning dark in the minimal light. Suddenly someone landed directly in front of him in the sand. He jerked even as his gaze flew upward. When his eyes connected with wide whiskey colored eyes, his lips pulled upward into a trembling smile. The beautiful image in front of him blurred slightly as his eyes grew wet. “Stiles.” It hurt to speak. His voice rasped painfully on the name. Whether it was from misuse or continued screaming he didn’t know.  
  
The sound of it had Stiles’ features pulling together with obvious pain. He frowned a little. That wasn’t what he wanted. What he wanted was for Stiles to be happy. This was it. He was going to die. All of this had to be a dream, so that meant that his lover should be smiling. With a little sigh, he leaned forward to bury his face into the other man’s neck. The shoulder he was resting on trembled slightly. When Stiles’ voice came again, it shook a little. “Oh, thank God.” A hand settled on his head, stroking the greasy hair gently. “I thought…I was worried I wouldn’t make it.” The words grew softer, got closer, as they were whispered directly into his ear. “I’m so sorry, Derek. I tried to find you. I’ve been searching since the day you disappeared. I couldn’t…I couldn’t find you.”  
  
When the words tapered off, he was rocked back and forth gently in comforting arms. The distress he could clearly hear in Stiles’ voice had him mumbling softly. “Not your fault. I’m sorry, for…everything.” As his relaxation grew, he couldn’t help releasing the last of his words on a soft sigh. “I love you, Stiles.” A sob met his declaration which had him frowning a little. The reassurance on his lips fell away when Stiles continued in a shaky voice. “I love you too, Derek. I love you so much.” When the arms around him tightened, he melted more thoroughly into the warm embrace. The minutes trickled past as he slipped away from consciousness. With the combination of his exhaustion and the drugs it wasn’t any surprise.  
  
Although if he was dead, shouldn’t he be feeling differently. He did feel good, languid. The lack of pain made sense. When the rocking stopped, he murmured a little with disappointment. “Derek, you can’t fall asleep. I need to get you back to the road.” A hand gently shook his shoulder. “Come on Derek. Don’t fall asleep.” Although it was nearly impossible, he managed to pull his eyes open. When he raised his head a moment later, Stiles was quick to gently pull him to his feet. It was only then when they were standing upright, his right arm slung over broad shoulders that he realized this was real. He looked at his lover’s face like he’d never seen him before. “Stiles.”  
  
Although he could see that Stiles was concerned, the other man didn’t give his disorientation much attention. “It’s okay, Derek. I’ve got you.” There was a pause then as Stiles readjusted their stance. The look on his face suddenly looked angered. “You’re too light. I can feel your ribs.” He could tell that the other man wanted to say more. Instead the look fell away and he was sent a light smile. “Okay, we’re going to move now. Are you ready?” The thought of moving seemed impossible but he nodded anyway. They’d barely taken one wobbly step forward when he remembered the body close by. If this was real then that meant. His brain came to a screeching halt even as his gaze landed on the still figure. “You killed him.” The statement was shocked, not accusatory. Regardless, he hadn’t really meant to say it out loud.  
  
“I had no choice.” He looked to Stiles, taking in the way his determined expression had matched the sound of his voice. When the next words came, they weren’t planned either. “But Scott…” The interruption when it came was gentle, an undertone that pleaded for him to understand. “I did what I had to do. There was no time. His finger was already on the trigger when I got in range. If I’d hesitated…I wasn’t going to let you die, Derek. If Scott can’t understand that, there’s nothing I can do about it.” Wanting to reassure the other man, he put forth considerable effort to brush his hand along his jaw line. When their gazes met he smiled gently. “It’s okay. I understand. I would have done the same.” He would have. There was no question. Although he didn’t like to kill anyone, if Stiles’ life was on the line he wouldn’t have hesitated.  
  
They started to move away when his gaze caught on Stiles’ holster. At seeing the gun securely tucked away, he became a little concerned. As tired as he was he was experiencing a moment of clarity. He looked back at the dead man and visually judged their new distance. When he looked forward once again, it seemed the time to bring up his concerns. “Wait. We have to…do something.” The words didn’t make sense. There was a disconnect somewhere between what he was thinking and the words actually coming out of his mouth. His eyebrows pinched together with his frustration. “It’s okay, Derek. Don’t worry about anything. I’m going to take care of you.”  
  
Instead of being reassured, he felt a panic start to well up in his chest. He didn’t want to lose Stiles. The gentle pull of the other man’s body kept him moving forward. Not really knowing what to do, his hand curled fiercely against Stiles’ shoulder. “No, you don’t…we can’t leave him there. The gun…if anyone finds him…your bullet.” A wave of dizziness had him listing to the side. The hold on him tightened even as he was guided to sit on the ground. In a moment of desperation, he buried his face into Stiles’ neck. “I can’t…lose you. I can’t.” A sob emerged from his throat that he didn’t try to hide. At any other time he would have felt humiliated. In this moment though, he was too raw to feel much except desperation.  
  
The arm supporting him fell until he was once more in a solid embrace. There was a hushing noise a moment later that soothed him completely. “It’s okay, Derek. I promise. Everything’s okay.” A hand slid down his spine. Although the touch was comforting, he murmured in the negative. They had to be careful. If someone found out what Stiles had done, he’d go to jail. He couldn’t let that happen. With renewed energy, he tried to push up out of the hold. “I have to…I need to go back and…” The small movement had the muscles in his arms shaking heavily. It wasn’t a challenge for Stiles to hold him in place. “No, listen Derek, it’s okay.” When he wouldn’t settle, his lover pulled back slightly.  
  
A hand slid over his face, tilting his chin upward until their gazes could connect. It took him a few minutes to focus. A few seconds after he’d managed it, Stiles spoke again in a soothing voice. “I didn’t bring my gun. This one belongs to Chris. It’s untraceable. When we get back to the Jeep, I’m going to give him a call. He’ll come and clean this up. Everything is going to be fine. I need you to trust me on this. Chris knows what to do.” The reassurance took some time to sink into his sluggish mind. When it did, he whispered out an automatic response. “Chris knows what to do.” He got a nod in the affirmative. “That’s right. Chris knows what to do. He’ll take care of it.”  
  
Now that he’d calmed down, Stiles got them back to their feet. “We’re going to go see Deaton. I’m going to have Melissa look you over too. It’s obvious they gave you something. It must be pretty nasty too if it’s left you this out of it.” Once again coming to a rest against Stiles’ shoulder, he mumbled out a confirmation lowly. “I was given drugs. Some of it…had wolfsbane. It doesn’t make me…I don’t feel good.” The arm around him tightened. “I know, love. It’s going to be okay. You’ll feel better in no time. I’ll even pamper you for a few days.” When the familiar blue Jeep came into view, he could have wept relieved bitter tears. At the way Stiles leaned into him further, there was a chance that he actually did. “I’ve got you, Derek. It’s okay. I’m taking you home.” As he burrowed further into Stiles’ neck, took in his soothing scent with his dulled senses and felt his warmth seeping into his skin he couldn’t help thinking he already had.  
  
The End


End file.
